Jen's Birthday Pictures

Title describes the below photos. Dani sent them to me. I think this was before David, Michael and I started singing showtunes . . . but I can't be sure. These photos are a precursor to the events described in my "piss"drunk entry. Enjoy.

What the hell? 

Jen and Dani being gangsta'. 

Nikki Ferry and I are being dramatic. 

David and Michael . . . being nuts. 

I have no idea what the hell is happening in this picture. 

Noteworthy.

Tonight the roommates and I attended our friends' production of The Importance of Being Earnest. An altogether good show . . . except for a select few audience members.

The girl sitting behind us with the horse laugh was the least of our worries. She has only her genetic makeup to blame for that, which is admittedly most unfortunate.

A more important problem was the trio sitting in front of us. The trouble with them began even before the show, as the girl in front of me turned to ask Jen to stop kicking the back of her chair, when Jen was, in reality, tapping the floor behind the girl in front of her. This girl in front of me proceeded to suck on a lollie for the duration of the show and loudly unwrap something, after which she returned to the performance with rapt attention. Her friends, on the other hand, were evidently so bored with the show that they proceeded to play hangman on their programs, talk continually until about the last 15 minutes of the play, and attempt to balance their accessories on the chairbacks in front of them. I deemed this noteworthy.

I took out my notepad and jotted down the following: "If you were bored with the show, you should have left."

I handed it to them promptly as I left. Without a word. Just a folded slip of paper and a quick turn to leave.

I figure that if actors get notes from a director after a show when they've done something wrong, why shouldn't the audience also get them? These audience memebers obviously have no appreciation for live theatre, as they were not only disrespectful to the audience members around them, but to the actors as well. So they needed a note to help them remember to correct this behavior in the future.

I will become like Dorothy Parker with these notes. All shall fear my scathing pen and conveniently placed notepad.

Dada Kicks You in the Ass and You Like It.

That's the current title of my art history paper. It's a direct quote, actually. One screamed by my professor as she ran down the aisles of Campbell Hall banging a drum and wearing a paper chef's hat.

That information is in the footnote.

The Dada paper is the last paper of my last quarter of my first year at college. I'd say the quality of my work deteriorated, but that's not really so. Art is much more difficult to write about than writing. I expect a B. And I'd be very happy with that.

It's somewhat gratifying, actually. Knowing that now the only person I'm impressing with A's is myself. The world is much less stressful without the constant thought that you're not going to get into college.

The only problem with writing about Dada is that, after a long enough period of time, you stop making sense. I think I've reached that point.

8 Points on the Past Week

This update has been a long time coming.

It's been a busy week between 3 papers (one of which I still have yet to begin), Nikki Ferry Live, classes, Magic Mountain, Throughly Modern Millie, the Dungeon, La Vie en Rose, and shopping on Melrose.

1. 3 Papers: a one pager in classics, a 4 pager for my darkness class, and a 5 pager for art history. The one pager in classics I wrote quickly and without concern. I hate the instructor. I usually fall asleep in the class. And who, in all seriousness, assigns a 1 page essay to college students? With disdain, I am taking the class Pass/Not Pass. The darkness paper I wrote about Sondheim's score for Sweeney Todd and how the compositions in minors, rearrangement of traditional vocal roles and dissonant harmonies underscored the dark themes of the play. The art history paper I have decided will be on Hannah Hoch's Dada Ernst. I have to explain why this work is meaningful, what skills Hoch has sacrificed to make it, why she gains by it, the significance of the work, the effects it produces, and how it achieves said effects. Other than setting up this nice 6 paragraph structure, I have no idea where to begin.

2. Nikki Ferry Live: After clsses on Tuesday, we (the roommates and Richie and I) piled into Nikki's VW Beetle and drove to Los Angeles to see her do 3 minutes of stand-up at the laugh factory. We chilled on Melrose before the show and Heather got a hole put in her nose. Nikki was performing with about 13 other comics, half of whom were first timers like herself. She was definitely funnier than 2/3 of them and about 1/3 of the veterans. She is snugly in the middle and will definitely get better with practice. Later that night, we had after-show dinner at Denny's in Northridge. The waiter never brought our check. So we left. We drove back to Santa Barbara feeling morally corrupt, well, some of us anyway. Ultimately, we justify our actions by saying that a good wait staff would never allow a table to sit for 30 minutes after everyone had finished their meals without bringing a check. And we never got refills on our water.

3. Classes: Yes, I go to them.

4. Magic Mountain: Friday we all ditched class to go to Magic Mountain, thereby negating my previous statement. It was good times, save for the fact that I wasn't there long because Marcus and I had to leave for a show that evening and my friends spent 2 hours of my time with them waiting in line for 1 roller coaster while Marcus, Dani and I ate (because I am anemic) and went on 3 rides. We then spent the rest of out time at the park waiting in line with everyone for a coaster we didn't even get to go on. Suck.

5. Thoroughly Modern Mille: How in God's name did this beat Urinetown??? Inspid show. I can't fault the production value or the talent of the actors and dancers, but this show is really ridiculous. It doesn't mean anything at all. And it has a very bizarre subplot about white slavery, the only good part of which is that it provides medium sized roles to two Asian male actors . . . however they must perform the entire time in Mandarin. And sing in Mandarin. Which is rather degrading because it doesn't treat them as talented actors but rather charactures of their race. Suck.

6. The Dungeon: Oh, I love goth clubs! Two rooms of goth on goth dancing. (Which is at times a very bizarre version of modern dance and at other times in the style of european discotechques.) A sushi bar. A normal bar. 2 small stages where either patrons (or employees, I'm not certain) perform floggings, homoerotica, bondage and period bondage. I watched two very attractive, scantily clad women caress and lick one another for a long while and left when a couple were performing some 18th century French Revolutionary bondage. I put Marcus in a collar and leash and was complimented by a couple of nice looking goth girls for my impressive control. I will be going back with Eric someday. We shall have a field day.

7. La Vie en Rose: Marcus' new apartment. It's a really nice place. I am afraid of the gas oven. I'm not used to cooking with gas . . . and I find it mildly distubing that an apartment containing two Jews has a gas oven. As I said the place is really nice, far superior to anything you'll see in IV. It's clean, spacious and has a weird little balcony thing. I also find it comical that what I thought was grass in the courtyard from pictures online is actually weird 60's astroturf stuff. It's very funny looking.

8. Melrose: Fantastic vintage stores. Aardvark's is excellent. I will be returning and poking about. Bought a very Charlotte York style dress. It's cute and green. Rather summery. Don't know when I'll wear it, but I'm sure it will serve me well in Italy.

Heh heh . . . Horn.

Yesterday, Jen, Kevin, Dani and I ventured out into the mountains of Santa Barbara in search of the Heart of the Forest Renaissance Faire being held at Live Oaks Camp. My, what a most beauteous day to be out among the oaks! It was just warm enough to not need sweaters, but not as hot as it usually gets at RenFaire (which is so hot that those of us in garb who do not continually have a full cup, mug, or tankard will probably pass out). Live Oaks is shady and beautiful, and only about half as dirty as other faires I've been to, which I would venture is largely due to the high concentration of fallen leaves lining the dirt pathways. Heart of the Forest is a significantly smaller faire than I'm used to, but it's something I'm going to have to get used to as there will be no more NorCal Pleasure Faire. Heart of the Forest comes to Novato sometime this summer. If Novato is anywhere as shady as Live Oaks, I'll be there for certain.

Becauase its a smaller faire in size of location, that means its a smaller faire in terms of present merchants. Lots of different merchants, though fewer of them, a smaller trader's market, smaller jousting area, no fencing tournaments, fewer games, and a smaller variety of foods. (No beansteaks. Oh well. I'll live, now that I know how damned good the pitas are at faire!) But even though this was a smaller, quieter faire, it was still just as much fun. And had just as many performance stages as any other.

The four of us took in a good number of performances that day (more than most times I go to faire, where my friends at home are bastards and don't want to watch any shows). We saw a 2-man Pyramus & Thisbe, which required a volunteer from the audience, so, naturally, Jen and I made Kevin do it. Because its fun to embarass people. Pyramus & Thisbe was followed by 12 min. Hamlet--which was hilarious, as it was also performed with only two people. We also took in Taming of the Shrew (reduced to about half an hour), and two dance performances--country and Celtic. Some of the Celtic dancers were really amazing. They've obviously been doing it for years and years, probably since they were wee mites, because their calves are so finely muscled and their backs held so straight.

We made a few purchases of finery--mostly from Fellowship Foundry. I said this year was the year I was finally going to get a tankard so I wouldn't have to carry around the giant 2 liter bottles of Aquafina they sell at faire. I purchased a hammer-topped cup with a kitten for the handle, leaning her head in to drink. I'm going to take it everywhere. I'll start bringing it into the dining commons and snubbing their shitty glasses. The girl at Fellowship even custom set the cat's eyes for me (red) and put different eyes in the mouse that sits opposite the cat, looking terrified (green). I will be the only one with a cup like this one. Jen bought one of Fellowship's fairy necklaces and purchased a Leaf of Lothlorien necklace for Heather. She also got a couple of glass leaf pendants from another vendor, who educated us about peircing in the Renaissance. Dani bought a little wire box on a necklace from him. She's planning on putting herbs in it so that it will be like a sachet. I also purchased a drinking horn.

And when we went to Natalie's pirate and wench party that night, the horn was the hit of the evening. Jen and Dani borrowed my corsets and bodices to dress for the occasion (in fact, everything Jen was wearing was mine: corset, skirt, belt, boots, necklace, jacket--all mine), but I just stayed in my faire garb. Burgandy bodice, black skirt, big white chemise with celtic knotwork down the sleeves, burgandy muffin cap and my belt full of fun accessories: my dragon pouch, 4 feather ticklers, the lambswool handcuffs, my lambskin whip, the dragon tankard strap, my brand new kitten cup, and, of course, the drinking horn. I took all my drinks from the horn (3 rum and cokes, 2 strawberry vodkas) and showed people how to drink from the horn. I had many a conversation about RenFaire and my garb. From now on, I bring the drinking horn to every party I go to. And next time I go to faire, I am getting one for Nikki Ferry. Because Nikki loves the horn.

Kind of a Drag

In the depths of sleep deprivation, I attended the Sociology 1 drag show put on by the drag queens of the 801 Cabaret in Key West, Florida. I had been excited about this show for weeks, and seeing the queens, Miss Sushi, Miss Kylie Jean Louise, and Miss Gugi Gomez parade out onstage in a variety of interesting vinyls, boas, furs, laces, and silks, I was instantly awake again. They were absolutely stellar. Each had a particular style of song she liked to perform and a particular style of dress to go along with it. Gugi capitalized on her Latin roots, wearing outrageous cominations of dominatrix couture with the styles popular on Latin American teenage girls. She wore bondage gear, gypsy skirts, and a denim jumpsuit complete with denim hat for her J. Lo number. She chose music that would allow her to come into the audience and give kisses, lap dances, an simulated blowjobs to as many people as possible. Kylie was like a Vegas showgirl. She showed off as much of her fantastic legs as humanly possible, generally exposing just a little bit of her ass in the process. She did lighter pop numbers that were generally uptempo . . . and she even stripped naked in one to remind everyone that drag culture is all about questioning assigned gender roles and sexual identity. My favorite of the three was Miss Sushi. She was tall and thin and by far the most graceful of the three queens. She wore a 50's rockabilly style short wig for most of the show, and eventually went onstage in just her natural hair, which was about the same length, but not nearly as perfectly curled. Sushi chose numbers that vacillated between fast and slow, mostly based on dancefloor and lounge favorites from the 40's and 50's. She wore a long sheer gown with asian fans hanging from it for one number, a glittering white gown with an ostrich feather coat for another, and a Japanese wedding kimono (cut short in front to expose her long legs) for her final number as a nod to her Japanese-American heritige. All of her numbers allowed her to move gracefully and dance exceptionally well. She even showed off her acrobatics in "Take Me or Leave Me," which she performed with Gugi. Sushi played Maureen's part in a cute, short vinyl skirt (nobody wears vinyl better than Miss Sushi) and a tied up oxford button down shirt. She did a couple of cartwheels and jumped into the arms of Gugi, who played Maureen's lover Joanne as a true "control freak:" a dominatrix. These ladies were fucking fabulous. And I want to go to drag shows all the time. I was so happy to see how into the performances the audience was--especially the group of (presumably straight) guys right in the front, who were the first to tuck dollars into Kylie's ass (and later to place one right between her dick and her balls), the first to ask Gugi for lap dances, and the first to want to touch Miss Sushi's graceful thighs. Sushi later said in an interview that straight men respond well to drag culture because it's all about femininity. They wish straight women would be as outrageous and glamorous as drag queens are--and as sexually overt. I think that if this were true, more straight men would like musicals. (Which would be awesome. Seriously.)

On another note related to gay culture, Jen and I visited Dani's room today. She lated told us that her roommate thought we were lovers, Jen and I. When I asked Dani to inquire about her roommate's evidence for this theory, she sited that we "could finish each other's sentences" and that we "were talking about cute girls and hot girls all the time." Wow. It was then that I realized that she must have obviously thought me the "bulldyke" in the relationship, you know, considering I was wearing pants and I have short hair. So I've decided that, while this girl has impeccable taste in literature (I inspected her bookshelves after she left because I had spotted Beloved from half the room away), she is obviously too superficial to comprehend anything she reads. If she honestly thought that just because Jen and I are willing to admit that Brody Dalle of the Distillers and Gwen Stefani of No Doubt are infinitely hotter than we are--and infinitely more attractive than anyone we've ever met in our lives--then we must logically be lesbians. And because we are good enough friends to have inside jokes and know what one other is thinking then we logically must be a couple. Because that makes complete sense.

Note the biting irony.

2 Stories:

1. Last night, Kevin calls as I am desperately trying to remember how to do logarithmic equations. He says he's coming by for a little bit. He shows up only 2 minutes later, and walks through the door announcing, "Happy Mother's Day, Mama Stevi!" For a minute, I am frozen in half fear. Can't really explain why. He hands me a gift--cleverly wrapped in several Albertson's plastic bags. "Are you impressed with my wrapping, Mama?" "Yes, Kevy. I am very impressed." Inside all the plastic is a cope of P.D. Eastman's children's classic Are You My Mother? It is so fucking sweet that I am on the verge of tears. This is the nicest bit of odd sentiment ever. He even wrote my name on the "this book belongs to" page as "my mama Stevi." I think now I will have to open that fried chicken and gumbo restaurant, just for Kevy . . .

2. I was sitting in the UCen this morning, slurping my Jamba and reading the Nexus, when I was approached by J.J. (See the bongo drum story from November 2003.) He tapped my leg with his cane and asked me if I was reading a newspaper. Knowing how talkative this guy can be, I just said yeah as disinterestedly as possible. He manuvered his way around the table that sits among the couch horseshoes to sit on the couch next to mine. Alarmed that he failed to notice the girl sleeping on that couch (even in his blindness, if he could tell I was reading a newspaper, I would venture he could hear the sleeping girl breathing), I alerted him to her presence, so he found his way to the other end of my couch. And he began talking to me. I feel like a terrible person to say that I wasn't really listening or even interested in listening, but I figured it couldn't do any harm to him if I did a half-assed job of it. He was telling me all about cutting and splicing in various radio ads, video games and telephone lines. It would have been a really interesting conversation if I had wanted to have it. Which makes me feel like a total asshole. He's a nice guy. He's lonely. He likes people, and I'm sure he desperately wishes he could see them, but most people won't give him the time of day. (Literally. I've seen him ask people and they will refuse to tell him for fear he'll come talk to them.) I'm less of an asshole than those people, but still an asshole.

Sex & the City

So, given my obsession with Sex and the City, I've always wondered which girl I'm more like. Knowing fully that I was a composite of the 4 of them, I found an all-knowing internet quiz at iVillage to do all the percentages for me. (Sex and the City quiz here.)

Me, in a nutshell:

You scored 30% Miranda
You chose many of the same answers that Earth Sign-like Miranda, the cynical but pragmatic lawyer, might have chosen. Just like Miranda's had a tough time deciding whether to give in to the affections of Steve the Bartender, you don't give your heart up to just anyone. Miranda shies away from a relationship with Steve because he's 'just' a bartender, not something more conventionally ambitious or stable. Those with powerful Earth Sign qualities -- characteristics associated with Taurus, Virgo and Capricorn -- are cautious in love and seek stability and status over nearly anything else. Earth Signs provide a steady, realistic attitude and they can bring order out of chaos. A little-known Earth Sign fact: Incredibly sensual, you seethe beneath that smart, expensive business suit of yours, yearning for intimacy but hesitant to give up your material needs, your career ambitions or your responsibilities for a passionate moment that might not turn out the way you'd hope.


You scored 30% Carrie
Your answers peg you as a Carrie-type, much influenced by the Air Sign qualities associated with Gemini, Libra and Aquarius. Like confident Carrie, a sex columnist, you're curious and perceptive, always seeking answers and never satisfied with the superficial. An Air Sign influence can lead to indecision and an avoidance of tough issues, like with Carrie and her on-again, off-again attachment to Mr. Big. Forward-thinking, incredibly intelligent and witty, you just exude quirky charm. You'd be utterly bored by someone who's just a pretty face or hot body -- though you don't mind looking and flirting! You're more turned on by an equally smart and funny mate, someone who challenges your mind and makes you laugh. You love to talk, so you need a good listener who's open to playful and eccentric ideas about love and lovemaking.


You scored 30% Charlotte
A romantic at heart, you chose the answers that demure Charlotte may have chosen. Strongly influenced by the intuitive, profound and sometimes naïve Water Signs -- Cancer, Scorpio and Pisces -- you're like a mother, a mystery and a poet all in one. Though on the surface you may seem innocent and all about seeking the good in people, beneath the surface, you hide secret yearnings for intimacy, for attachment and ideal love. You're seeking a knight in shining armor, a soul mate, someone who will complete you and tether you to the earth when you get carried away with your fantasies. You're super-sensitive, soaking up the moods of others; you emote freely, crying at commercials and sappy movies. You also provide a shoulder to cry on and open arms for hugs. Be careful that you're not so wide-eyed and trusting that you get taken in by some cunning wolf in sheep's clothing.


You scored 10% Samantha
You identify with Samantha's bold and liberated Fire Sign qualities, characteristics associated with the Signs of Aries, Leo and Sagittarius. You're strong, audacious and larger than life -- and you take what you want! Sometimes you can even be thoughtless and selfish, as you get so caught up in craving immediate gratification and excitement that you overlook someone's feelings. Your personal style likely reflects your desires: sleek, low-cut, revealing just a bit more than might be considered acceptable. Watch that you're not coming on too strong, though. You could scare potential suitors off with all your drama. If you seek so much attention, the more basic qualities of the Fire Signs could be burned right out of the picture. Show less skin or cleavage and more of your creativity, your vibrant leadership skills and courageous generosity!

Tony Awards!

Tony Award nominations came out today. I get the sinking feeling that Wicked and Boy from Oz will steal all of the musical categories away from Avenue Q. As amazing as Nikki Ferry tells me that Hugh Jackman is as Peter Allen in Boy from Oz, I would love to see super-cute, super-talented puppeteer John Tartaglia win out over him from his roles as Rod and Princeton in Avenue Q.

Granted, I haven't seen the green glitz of Stephen Schwartz's Wicked, nor have I seen the Hugh Jackman vehicle. I don't doubt the talent of Jackman. He hosted last year's Tony's and broke into "New York, New York" from On the Town, so I know he has an incredible voice. I do doubt Wicked. I like Schwartz--when he's writing Disney scores. I do not like Godspell. And I can only find one good song in Children of Eden. But I have to advocate Avenue Q simply because it is only of the boldest, most innovative shows I've seen in a long time.

The performers in Avenue Q are former Hensen puppeteers. They created the show around the concept that puppeteers should be recognized for the work that they do. Essentially, they're actors, too--not just people capable of doing some really amazing voice work. Sitting 4th row in the Golden Theatre on 41st Steet last August to witness the awesome skill of puppeteers like John Tartalia, fellow nominee Stephanie D'Abruzzo, Rick Lyon and Jennifer Bernhardt was amazing. Each puppeteer handled two puppets a peice--more if you're Bernhardt--and, because these actors are no longer hiding behind their puppets, but acting with them, it was amazing to see the way each performer morphed his or her body and facial expressions to suit the needs of the characters they had stuck on their hands. I'm also amazed when people can sing in voices other than their own. So even hearing John Tartaglia sing as the naive Princeton and then the "closeted homo-whatever" Rod (whose voice, I think, is produced in that little gap between the back of your nasal cavity and your throat) was equally impressive.

To dispell the fact that this is merely a puppet show, Avenue Q has three non-puppet characters, all of whom interact with the puppets a la Sesame Street. One of whom is Gary Coleman. Yes, that Gary Coleman--but played by a woman. But this is not a kids show. At all. It's sort of an adult spin on the educational Hensen creations we all grew up on. It deals with life after college, and begs the questions that are pertinent to our every day lives: what is our purpose? why doesn't college really perpare us for the real world? why is rent so damned high? why are people mean? why do we love? who defines political correctness? and so on. Each song on the show is a light hearted attempt to answer these questions. Princeton, fresh out of college, begins the shows action by singing,
"What do you do with a BA in English?
What is my life going to be?
Four years of college
and pleanty of knowledge
have earned me this useless degree.
I can pay the bills yet,
'cause I have no skills yet."
It also features such numbers as "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist," "Shaudenfreude," "It Sucks to Be Me," and "If You Were Gay." The show is witty, hilarious and ultimately one of the happiest things I've ever seen. It is aware of its genre and uses it well (from little animated signboards on the side that can morph the word "purpose" in "propose" and help the audience spell "shaudenfreude" to the nature of the set and puppets themselves). It's amazing. Really. And I haven't laughed so hard at the theatre since Urinetown.

Ride On, Jesus, Ride

I've just returned from church with Heather and Jen and Dani. I don't think I'll be going again.

As amazing as it was to hear the stories that this priest told (beginning with an Irish joke, foraying into Fellini's La Strada, relating a tale about a CEO and Mother Theresa, mentioning "Love Makes the World Go 'Round" from Carnival, braiding it all together with Dante's Commedia Divina and finally ending with his own charitable works in Mexico), as soon as the emphasis on words was over, I completely lost interest. I was then further put off as I was forced into holding people's hands during the "Our Father." After which point, I resorted to inattentive sifting through my hymnal, and was curiously suprised when I happened upon a song called "Ride On, Jesus, Ride."

The title disturbs me, but the liner notes said it was a traditional African spiritual. I'm not sure how that justifies the title in my head, but it somehow seem less odd.

If one good thing has come of tonight's run in with organized religionl, it is the knowledge that I will most certainly not be getting married in a church.

"Piss" Drunk.

Jen's Birthday: night filled with drunken revelry and songs late into the evening. People like to hear me sing when I'm drunk. I guess it sounds better or something. The really interesting story from last night, however, really happened this morning at about 5:25.

Jen and I wake up to light and the sound of urination. I peek one eye open and see some guy standing at the edge of Jen's bed. I do not process the sounds at all, but I assume he's just talking to Jen. My concern is why she invited someone over after our party, or if he had been here the whole time and I just never noticed. Then I realize he's peeing. He finishes, and walks to the middle of the room to put his pants on over his boxers. Jen evidently realizes who he is. She says, "Hank? What are you doing here?' He doesn't respond. "Hank, do you need us to take you downstairs?" He mumbles that he's fine and goes over to turn off the light by the door before he leaves. Thinking this is still too weird for words, I flip on my reading light. Just to make sure that he's gone and that I am not dreaming this. Hank walks over from the door, turns off my reading light, and leaves. I hear him trying doors down the hallway, looking for his room or the stairs or what have you. He obviously has no idea where he is.

So Jen and I sit in the room, desperately trying to process what the hell just happened. "Did he just piss on my chair?" Jen asks. "I think so." We inspect the damage. Chair, wet. Floor surrounding chair, large puddle. Splatter on the desk and certain nearby objects. Oh God. We take the chair outside. It is living in the hall forever. We decide to go downstairs to tell Merileigh, our RA. So we venture downward and wake her up at about 5:35. We tell her the story of what happened and she is almost more bewildered than we were. Jesus is awake, too, for some reason, so he volunteers to go and find Hank. We all search every bathroom and lounge looking for Hank, and we can't find him anywhere. Merileigh inspects the damage in our room. "Wow. How weird," she says. She tells us to put in a work request and she'll have Hank pay for the clean-up of the chair and floor. So I submit the work request, and everyone else goes back downstairs in search of Hank.

We find him at 6 am in his bed. Asleep. With no recollection of what happened. Merileigh explains his adventures this morning to him and we all go to sleep again.

At 11:30 this morning, Hank comes up to wake us again. He apologizes profusely, offers to pay for the damage, and is just as amazed at his actions as we were. Especially how he got to the 3rd floor in the first place. Forgiveness. No hard feelings.

In retrospect, Hank, this is a fucking awesome story. It's a little scary to wake up with someone you've barely spoken to in your room. It's weird when you wake up and they're peeing on your chair. But it's funny when they intentionally turn off all the lights before they leave.

Impending Doom

So. Hot. Going. To. Die. Seriously.

Chill Time

Today has been such a reconnecting with old friends day. Talked to Roni for a good long time this afternoon on AIM, had dinner with Jenrikay. It feels good. I'm so glad college erases the meanness of high school. It's been a chill day. I've been contemplating my Dicken's Faire garb and decided to pair a pagoda bodice with a parlor skirt, and make the bodice all beautiful and eastern and paisley print. Then we shall see about the skirt. So much excitement! Grandma and I have a project!

Knowing full well that her husband could be dead by the time summer rolls around, I asked Grandma if she would teach me how to sew on a machine this summer so I could make my Dicken's Faire dress. She said she'd be happy to teach me, and I'm sure she knows that it would take her mind off of Ed if he does indeed die before the summer rolls around. So it's our project. It'll be just like when I was young and played in her sewing room while she made me dresses. Sort of a tradition of needlework that skips generations: she the seamstress, my mother the surgeon, and me . . . what exactly to I string together?